Later
by JamJar98
Summary: It's a year since they toed the line. Is history going to repeat itself? Or will one of them change it?


_A/N: I'm really not feeling the Christmas spirit this year, so instead of listening to Michael Buble I ended up listening to Blake Shelton. So there's a little musical prompt to this as well._

* * *

It had always been the lights that drew her in. The greens, reds and blues flickering quietly as Christmas drew near. She was sure there was an unopened box in storage that held old family baubles. It was perhaps time to let them go, maybe she could ask someone to drop them off at a children's shelter. Shaking off old memories, she turned back to the reports she'd been busy with.

The annual NCIS Office Party was thumping away right outside her office door. It had been a collaboration between Human Resources and the Accounts Department to have the annual get together at Headquarters. She would have to talk to Leon, make sure he still had all his wits about him. She'd managed to get herself out of the previous two, with a valid excuse of working a case. This year it was right at her doorstep.

She didn't hate Christmas, had never openly claimed she did. It was just the rest of the month that grated her nerves. Leon had seemed particularly casual about the whole affair taking place in a government building. It was a ploy; she was absolutely sure of it. Team Gibbs was notoriously famous for skipping the Christmas party, or so she'd heard from Ducky.

The chatter outside her door was becoming increasingly loud. Snapping the file shut, she took off her glasses and threw them carelessly on her desk. Jack pressed her fingers against her throbbing temples, trying to ease the irritation and fatigue away. She'd had four back to back cases, each more frustrating than the other.

The plan had been simple. Finish the reports, leave them on the Director's desk and she could go home. Except there was at least fifteen people between her and her weekend. Come Monday morning, Vance was going to get an earful about allowing this shindig to be held at the office.

There was a knock on the door and she groaned. It could only be Ellie or Leon, trying to force her to join the supposed 'fun'. Why hadn't she high tailed it out of here when she had the chance?

The knock sounded again, but didn't wait for an answer this time. The door swung open, the handle slamming against the wall.

Eyebrow arched, she looked up from where she'd been staring at her glasses. She'd expected one of the team, trying to convince her to at least join. Maybe even 'Pale' Dale from accounting.

Instead, she was staring at a festive looking Leroy Jethro Gibbs. At least the comical antlers on his head were festive.

She grinned at the pained look on his face when it became apparent that she had noticed. How couldn't she? Especially when little Morgan McGee very firmly babbled at him to keep still while she adjusted the monstrosities on his head.

"So which reindeer are you? Dasher or Prancer?." She snickered when his eyes rolled into the back of his skull rather dramatically.

With a twin on each hip, he didn't look very threatening when he glared at her evident delight in his situation. Twitching his nose at her, he passed a long Johnny McGee.

The little boy snuggled into the familiar embrace, a small chubby finger pointing in Gibbs' direction. Turning towards Jack, he grinned up at her. "Dathel." He threw his head back against her shoulder and giggled.

"Yeah, he does look like a 'Dasher'." Jack agreed, smiling as Johnny nodded and cuddled closer.

Morgan was still fussing with the antlers, adjusting them when they appeared to be crooked. Gibbs winced as the headband scraped against his scalp. Taking her hand gently, he jostled her in hopes it would distract her.

"Why don't you give Jack a hug?" The suggestion seemed to do the trick.

The toddler nodded eagerly. Grabbing the antlers with small sticky fingers, she grinned when the blonde took her. The antlers found their new home in Jack's hair, causing Johnny to once again burst with laughter.

"Smooth, Cowboy." Jack mumbled half-heartedly, he knew exactly how much she adored the twins.

The little girl toyed with the headband a few times, tiny hands resting on the older woman's shoulders. Jack cocked her head to the side, adjusting Morgan on her hip. "What do you think?"

The little girl offered her a toothy grin, fingers reaching to play with strands of blonde as she admired her work.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" She met his calm blue gaze. He was tired, that much she could tell by the way he tried to hide the pain in his knees.

"Kids were asking for ya'." Gibbs offered as explanation. It had worried him when he'd seen the whole damn office except her. He'd used the twins as an excuse, knowing they would be thrilled to see her either way. He was never going to admit he had missed her these last few weeks. He'd seen her twice, once when she'd brought him coffee and the when she'd raced into MTAC one afternoon.

Jack nodded, smiling at Morgan. "Guess I could use a break. Let me just grab my phone."

Helping Johnny climb his way onto his shoulders, Gibbs held the hyperactive toddler still as they waited.

He'd never intended to be caught up in this circus of a party. Watching Jack gather her things and turn everything off for the night, his eyes strayed to the painting hanging behind her desk.

It was a peace offering, far over due, but one nonetheless. Narrowing his eyes, he glared at the thing. She still hadn't come to him, despite his obvious invitation. Later…

Later seemed to be the definition of their friendship these days. They'd talk about it later. They would discuss the case later when poker night was over. It was more than six months later and he still waited each night for her to turn up in his basement to talk about what she'd kept from him that afternoon.

It no longer represented that night when the lights had been pretty and she'd been so alluring. Instead, it taunted him, reminded him of what he'd let slip that night.

Johnny squealed excitedly when the red blur shot passed the open door. "Santa!"

Gibbs winced as the boy pulled at his hair. "Easy, bud."

"Go, before he does it again." Jack watched as he grumbled something before leaving to track down his suspect.

She adjusted Morgan on her hip, reaching for her phone and closing her laptop. It had surprised her when she'd seen him with the twins. She knew the team had made plans for their own get-together before Christmas and that was supposed to be tonight. Gibbs had been invited, but she knew he was usually a no-show. This year she'd been tempted to do the same.

It was a constant two-steps-forward and five-steps-back dance with him. They were in a stale situation ever since the debacle that was May. She knew he was hurt, could tell by the way he avoided any situation that would require more than a few grunts during a conversation with her. She'd pushed him and maybe she'd pushed him harder than she'd intended.

The excited thud her heart gave when she saw him in her doorway was unmistakable. It had been so long since they had been together outside of work. She wasn't prepared for the loss she'd felt when he'd left to help Tobias. The emotional dependence frightened her, it implied so much and yet they had nothing to show for it.

Morgan bounced in her arms, finger pointing at the painting that hung on the wall. "Plitty."

Jack smiled at the little girl, nodding at her. Lost in thought, her fingers strayed to the desk drawer that held the note for safe keeping. Pushing the thoughts of that night to the back of her mind, she touched her fingers to the painting in silent remembrance.

"You two coming?" His voice startled her and she snapped around, eyes looking anywhere but at him.

Neither of them could ignore the fact that he'd caught her looking at the painting. Smoothing a strand of hair behind her ear and adjusting the toddler on her hip, she met his gaze.

There was silent acknowledgement between them. It represented their rather complicated relationship and what had transpired that night held just as much meaning for him.

* * *

Cold December bit at his skin, lungs aching as he took a deep breath. The walls had been crowding in on him, and the noise was slowly driving him insane. He'd watched her most of the night, the lights sparkling in those big brown eyes as she enjoyed the company. Johnny and Morgan had fallen asleep, leaving him to focus on his thought instead of entertaining them.

One year later.

A year since they ventured into the maelstrom that made up their friendship. Twelve months that consisted of a constant push and pull on both their parts. Everything had crumbled beneath their feet when she found out about Ellen Wallace.

"_Did it end on good terms?"_

"_Does it ever?"_

He remembers the look in her eyes, the realisation that it foreshadowed whatever had been transpiring between them. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her, see the defeat in her eyes when he avoided her. It wasn't so much his rules he'd been clinging to, but the history that each failed relationship had left him with.

History had a tendency to repeat itself, at least his did.

The hinges on the door squeaked, drawing his attention away from the city lights.

Wrapped in a coat, tips of her hair brushing against her shoulders, she gave him that soft Jack Sloane smile. Unable to resist the twinkle in her eyes, he found himself smiling back.

"Thought I might find you up here." The door slammed shut behind her, stopping the noise from spilling out into the night air.

Shrugging, he turned his attention back to the decorated streets in the distance. "No where else to go."

Jack bit her lip, knowing that pushing and prying was going to get her nowhere tonight. "I don't blame you." She sidled up next to him, shoulders bumping. "Whoever vetoed the idea of spiking the eggnog should be fired."

His chuckle was low and gruff, and it was something she hadn't heard in a while. The frigid air had pinked his cheeks and for a few seconds she just admired the way he looked in the dark of night.

"This is for you." She placed the bottle of bourbon on the ledge.

Reaching for the amber alcohol, he studied the label, recognizing the name instantly. The irony of the situation was far from lost on him. Taking a deep chilling breath, he slants towards her, hip pressing against the ledge for support. Holding up the bottle, he smiles in thanks, noting the nervousness in her features.

"No elephant here, Jack."

She let out an embarrassed laugh. Damn him for knowing exactly what to say to make her heart skitter and her hopes shoot through the roof. Shaking her head, she can feel the tense air around them dissipate, if only fractionally. Bumping her shoulder against his, she sighs softly as she turns more towards him. "Merry Christmas, Gibbs."

He doesn't reply, doesn't like history repeating itself. Leaning in, he watches her close her eyes and tilt her head for the kiss that will inevitably land on her forehead. Nudging her chin gently, he watches her eyes flutter open. His breath catches in his throat. She's more beautiful than he can remember.

Cupping the back of her head in his free hand, he kisses her. Giving her the kiss he should have her a year ago, and it's so much more rewarding when she smiles against his lips.

* * *

Keys still hanging in the front door, he laughs as she fists his lapels in her hands, eagerly seeking out his mouth. He can't resist her when she tastes like whiskey and smells like sin. It's been nearly three years, and he still can't place the smell of her perfume. They'd cracked the bottle of bourbon in her office, and one glass had led to three.

Even though he knew she could handle her liquor, she'd seemed far too buzzed to be driving. So he'd offered to take her home, but then she'd slid across the bench seat to be closer. Teeth nibbling at his ear and her hands warm as they kneaded his thigh and he'd turned left instead of right.

The bottle of bourbon sat on the table in the foyer, long forgotten by both of them. He sighs into her hair as she burrows into his chest, mouth nuzzled right against his throat. Their halfway up the stairs when he wonders if she's having second thoughts about this… about them.

Fingers tangled in her hair, he eases her head back, heavy lidded eyes blinking up at him. Swollen lips smile up at him, and he can't resist kissing her again.

"Why did we wait this long?" She whispers against his mouth after they pull apart. All he can hear is genuine curiosity in her voice. It's the last thing he's expecting. He was prepared for any question, but not this.

There's a moment of clarity between them, where he can see she's not as inebriated as he thought. Licking his lips, he swallows heavily. _I was scared_. He thinks to himself as she runs her fingers over his cheek and around to the nape of his neck.

"Thought there would be time later." He confesses, after all, it's the one thing that had been a constant in their relationship.

Jack smiles up at him, noting the pale blue of his eyes in the dark as he confides in her. She was scared too.

"No time like the present." It's cliched and she knows it, but it's all she can think of as his hands slip under her shirt and over her breasts.

The present had quickly caught up to him the moment she had her thighs wrapped around his hips. Nails biting into his skin and her fingers carding through his hair. He focused on the sounds that she made, the soft gasp in his ear or the sudden scrape of nails down his back. He growled at her when she bit his lip, her tongue slowly soothing the sting.

Pressing kisses along her jaw, he buried his face in her hair, lost in the feel of her body against his. She kissed along the shell of his ear, her breathing laboured as she whispered into his hair. "I think I'm in love with you."

Jack clung to him as he stilled, tightening his arms around her, he prayed it was true. Doubt crawled up his spine, wondering if she'd still be there when he woke up the next morning. Resting the tips of his fingers against her cheek, she looked at him, brown eyes crystal clear. Tongues met softly, hoping to convey his feeling for her, that this wasn't a mistake.

* * *

The bedsheets had been cold when he woke up, and he suspected that she'd been gone for hours. The floorboards creaked under his weight, reminding him just how quiet his house was. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he pulled on a pair of sweats and trudged downstairs.

The Christmas tree flickered quietly in the window where it usual stood each year. He felt the sudden palpitation of his heart race through his veins as he spotted her just behind the tree. Wrapped in just one of his flannel shirts, he wondered what had brought her down here. Blonde hair mused and her lips still swollen, she gave him a sleepy smile.

There were no presents under the tree. For a few seconds he contemplated if there would have been had they met years earlier.

She was warm as she stepped into his embrace, arms wrapping around his naked torso. He brushed a kiss to the top of her head, sensing she just needed to be close to him. The fear slowly faded from his mind as he held her. He'd been afraid of losing her, and he'd pushed her away, but she was here and he'd be damned if he let her go.

"It's snowing." Jack whispered against his chest, hand gliding over his bare skin to reach for his hand. Tugging on his fingers, he followed her to the window.

Touching the old lights that framed the white picture outside, she nuzzled her nose against his throat as he held her close. "Were they your dad's?"

The bulbs were old, and she assumed it was something he put up each year to honour his memory. She felt him hum, arm squeezing her closer to him. "My mom's. Dad brought them a few years ago."

"I've got some old family baubles somewhere in a box. I've been thinking about donating them." He could hear the regret in her voice, the pain of having to say goodbye.

"More than enough room on the tree." He indicated towards it with his head, noting her eyes widen and then flick to the object in question.

"No, I can't. It's your tree."

He cupped her cheek. "Our tree." His lips finding hers easily, finally giving her the kiss he wanted to when he woke up. She leaned her full weight into him, fingers stroking the cropped hair at the back of his neck. They both gasped for breath when she pulled away.

This was how last Christmas should've ended, with her in his arms.

"Merry Christmas, Jack."

* * *

_I am going on a hiatus and hope to see you all in a few months. Thank you to everyone who have read and reviewed all my work. Happy Holidays to you all._


End file.
